


Twice Over

by gyromitra



Category: Vagrant Story
Genre: M/M, might be considered underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27267121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: His aunt receives many guests, some only in the dark of the night. A chance meeting with one such person, and Joshua discovers his own penchant for the forbidden powers.
Relationships: Joshua Bardorba/Ashley Riot, Sydney Losstarot/Ashley Riot





	Twice Over

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding relationship tags, this has to do with my personal hc that 'Joshua' was Sydney's reward.

He knows he should not languish here when his aunt receives her guests, clandestine visits in the nights – he is even forbidden from it - but when did her words stop him, ever? So Joshua languishes in the empty and cold corridor of the palace, back to the window, hair aglow in the pale light of the full moon, gaze set on the intruder wrapped in a cloak hiding his face but not the stature coming closer with strides of a trained warrior.

Why, if he didn’t know better, he would compliment his aunt’s choice of companionship. But he does know better, the men and women flitting in and out of the estate in the darkest hours, bearing words and notices, smelling of vibrant, rich void, stinking their tracks with it, the fragrance as alluring as repugnant it is. This man, more so; a killer – a hunter – his eyes regard Joshua in his defiance.

“Duke.”

“You know me, sire, as such?”

The thrum of the flow under his skin heady with its slow song and pull, it makes him preen for attention, face inclined, locks gliding over the skin of his neck, eyes demure, and a quirk of a smile on his mouth. Joshua leans back; the folds of his untied shirt fall astride.

“Twice over.”

The touch to his cheek is rough and calloused, in the ways of the bloodshed, the nails blunted. Joshua snakes his fingers around the man’s wrist, slips the thumb between his lips: it’s leather, and string, and metal, and oil he tastes. It’s all that, and the darkness he cannot have enough of as he tries to get at it with his tongue. The man lets him, for a time, until, with a chuckle, he takes his hand away.

Joshua is left with a shallow breath in his chest and a sight of a familiar stranger’s retreating back.

“Sire, your name.”

“I am but a wanderer.”

In his sheets and pillows, when his blood is nothing but the beat of drums in his ears and the fire that scorches his veins, it is a rough and calloused hand that grips him.

His aunt merely laughs at him, the next morn.


End file.
